When Yaakov Avinu was presented with Yosef’s bloody cloak and he concluded that Yosef had been killed by a wild animal, the Torah teaches that Yaakov “observed mourning for his son many days” and “refused to be comforted.” Rashi, citing the midrash, explains that Yaakov’s long mourning period was due to a universal Divine decree that relief from the pain of grieving, described in Rabbinic language as “the deceased being forgotten from the heart,” only applies to the departed and not to the living; as a result, the metaphysical laws of the universe dictated that Yaakov could not be comforted because, after all, Yosef was still alive.
Setting aside the various questions raised by commentators about how to understand this midrash, we can extract a profound insight that is relevant for many of us today. The midrash is teaching three distinct ideas: first, that respite from the pain of grieving is ordained by Hashem; second, that this respite will only occur if the person being grieved has perished; finally, Chazal teaches that this Divine decree applies to Yosef’s situation, where even though he is presumed to have died, the so-called “natural” process of diminishing grief was not triggered because Yosef was still alive.
Most commentators focus on the novelty of the third aspect of the midrash’s lesson. However, the second aspect, namely that the process that provides relief from the pain of loss and grieving does not start if the subject of the grief is still alive, is salient to the current war.
Mourning and grief are common and painful experiences following a death, which involves both the physical and psychological absence of the departed from the life of his loved ones. Those who study grief have observed that grief seems to be experienced differently if only one of these two facets of loss are present. As an example, regarding the hostages – may Hashem bring them back to their families quickly and safely – they are physically absent, but psychologically present in the lives of their loved ones. To the families awaiting their return, they remain part of the family. Inversely, a soldier who returns home with PTSD or physical injury is physically present, but may be psychologically absent, as he is not able to participate in the family in the same way that he was before.
The experience of these partial losses has been coined “ambiguous loss,” and consistent with Chazal’s lesson in the midrash, the grief associated with ambiguous loss is often more difficult for family members than the death of a loved one, as described by writers Gabrielle Betz and Jill Thorngreen: “A never-ending rollercoaster, ambiguous loss takes its toll on family members physically, cognitively, behaviorally, and emotionally…For years, they may go through cycles of hope only to be disappointed once again. The unpredictable nature of an uncertain future leaves family members in a reactive position. The family may feel tremendous guilt and may be unable to make decisions, fearing that the wrong choice will be made…Family members likely differ in their views and emotions. They may withdraw from one another furthering their sense of isolation. Their grief can be exhausting.”
These authors provide an important insight into why this ambiguous loss can be more taxing on families than other forms of loss. It is specifically because they faithfully hope that their family member will return to his place in the family, and the recurring disappointment that the hope remains unfulfilled, that creates a constant source of pain.
This insight, that grieving is maintained by the persistent hope that the lost individual will be restored, may be reflected in a halachic debate. Based on the Rambam’s codification of a halacha in Maseches Semachos, the Shulchan Aruch (Y.D. 375) rules that in a case where the government refuses to release the deceased for burial, the relatives begin aveilus when they have lost hope for retrieving and burying their relative. The Pischei Teshuva brings a variant case posed to various poskim over the generation. What happens if we think it is likely, but not certain, that the family member died – is there aveilus, and if so, when does it begin? The halacha is a matter of debate, but I want to focus on one opinion. He cites the Maharam M’Rotenberg (1240-1290 C.E.) who rules that the family members would begin aveilus when they have given up searching for their relative and lost hope of ever finding him.
We might ask, why are these two things – giving up hope and aveilus – connected? After all, the likelihood of whether the loved one has died, which may be the more intuitive factor for beginning aveilus, does not change based on the subjective metric of “losing hope,” so why should this determine the threshold for commencing aveilus? One suggestion to answer this question is as follows. A primary objective of aveilus is for the mourner to accept nichumim, words and deeds of comfort, from their loved ones, and it is regarded as a great deed to provide such comfort to a mourner. However, as we learn in Pirkei Avos (4:18), it is not proper to offer words of comfort to an onen, i.e. a person whose family member has died but is not yet buried. The initiation of aveilus signals to the mourner and to his community that the process of seeking comfort from his grief has begun. As long as the family retains hope that their loved one will be restored, being comforted is not relevant and maybe even impossible. In other words, it is the hope itself that sustains the pain of the loss.
In the aftermath of October 7, our communities have endured vast losses, including these types of ambiguous loss. As we learn from Yaakov Avinu’s experience, the families who experience such losses often have trouble recovering from their grief as their loss remains present in their hearts and minds. May Hashem grant us the wisdom and strength to support these families as best we can.
